As Long As You Love Me
by InLuvWithMusic
Summary: She pursed her lips, reading the name in her head, I'm sure, before she opened her mouth and said the name. It didn't catch my ears at first All I could hear was ringing. I looked at the girl to my left. "What did she say?" I asked She swallowed, leaned over, gave me a hug, and whispered the name loud and clear. I stood frozen. Melissa Everdeen. they called my mother. im gona die
1. The Begining

I woke up to a stream of sunlight hitting my pillow and bouncing onto my eyelid, teasing me, telling me to wake up. I groaned and flipped over hoping that I could escape once more into sleep, where my problems seem to vanish if only for a few hours, if I'm not plagued with my recurring nightmare. "Katniss! Wake up!" Prim said as she bounced into my room. Ugh, sometimes I wish that I was old enough to move out and live on my own, where I could sleep in as long as I wanted. I pulled the cover over my eyes and hoping she would go away, but I knew that she wouldn't. Prim tried to pull the blanket from my face, but I held on for dear life. It was better being under here, warm and safe than it was being out there, cold, hungry, scared. "Katniss! We're gonna be late for school if you don't get up soon!" she whined, using the voice that she knows I can't resist. She sounds so pathetic when she talks to me that way, that I can't help but lift the cover and throw it on the end of my bed, laying a thick icy sheet of coldness on my body.

Prim is a very delicate looking creature. Her face is so pale, it looks as if you could break it with a feather. Her golden hair cascades off of her head like little wispy clouds that curve around her angel like face. Her face carries light blue eyes that are small but open and can swallow you up whole with once glance. Prim is small for her age of twelve, so she looks even more of a tiny angel when you look at her from a distance. It's a wonder how she's alive with how skinny she is. If you were to grab ahold of her arm you would only feel bone. Prim gave me a look of curiosity that broke me from looking at her features.

I wrapped my arms around my torso in a failed attempt to transfer a small amount of heat into my body, while Prim scurried out of my room saying," Hurry up, or you won't have time to eat breakfast before we go!" "If you can even call it that for how little of a breakfast it is." I said curtly, but then I glanced around in hopes that no one had heard me, at least no one that would get me in trouble, that is. I dressed quickly in hopes that what little heat I had stored would not be lost to this cold weather. I braided my wavy auburn hair into a long, thick braid that wrapped around my head and hangs down my left shoulder. I always wear my hair this way. It's the easiest thing I can do with it, that will stay all day.

I walked into the kitchen, which also served also as, what rich people would call, a family room. I sat down at our table which is placed in the middle of the square. The table looked like it was going to fall apart at any moment, but it's better than what most people have, which is nothing.

At my place was a small mound of goats cheese, and a small loaf of bread, made out of grain from tesserae, was set in the middle of the table to be divided between me, Prim, and my mother. We finished it off in about five minutes, and washed it all down with some milk from Prim's goat. We walked out the door to head down the path, to the broken down building that we call a school, when my mother stopped us. She walked outside, for the first time in months, and kissed both me and Prim on the cheek. "Have a good day at school" she said shooing us off in the right direction. Both Prim and I did not move, when she told us too. We stood staring at her like a kid in District 12 would in front of a candy store, if they were from the Seam. "Go" she said a final time with a strange look on her face, breaking me and Prim from our trance.

Ever since my father died in a mine explosion five years ago she has been stuck in a little trance. She will get up from her bed and move around the house, tidy things up, make dinner out of something that I bring home from scavenging, but once she is done with her little chore she will collapse into her chair or on her bed with a puzzled look on her face that asks," what am I doing?" she has had basically no place in this household for the past 5 years, other than being the thing that she is best, a statue in the corner while her two precious babies, or at least that's what we were, starve to death, unless I bring something home for us to cook.

The way our neighbors are looking at my mother was the same way Prim and I were looking at her when she came outside. Everyone knows that she does nothing but sit in her little rocking chair in the corner of the house, waiting for my father to be raised from the dead and walk through the door of our house. I can tell every time that I look at her, that she misses him, deeply. I do too. When I go to bed at night I pray that I won't be given the same dream that I have been cursed with for the past five years.

I see him, my father, being lowered into the mines, along with other men. I'm standing in front of him, screaming, but he can't hear me. I'm being blocked from him by some invisible force. He can't even see me, than I am being dragged to my house, but I don't go without a fight. I'm kicking and screaming at him, telling him it's not safe, that if he leaves, he's gonna die, but he doesn't listen to me, and he keeps going lower and lower into the earth, and then I hear it, the sound of earth caving in, the sound of my father's body being crushed under tons of rock and dirt. I wake up screaming every time. Prim is always there to comfort me though. She crawls next to me, curls her body around mine, tucks her little head on my shoulder, and holds me while I cry for our father. I should be the one to comfort, but it's Prim instead who comforts me, and makes my fears leave me, at least for a little while.

I started walking down the small dirt road to school slowly, looking at the houses that were scattered along its side. They are much like ours, some are better some are worse. The road hit a fork, the left lane took us to school, and the right lane took us to town square, where all of the merchants, and dignitaries lived, basically the wealthy of District twelve. I looked down the road, wondering what it was like to live down there, where you knew where your next meal was coming from, where you would never have to go out scavenging in the forest for food because you were a day away from death, where you would never have to take tesserae for you and your family, which puts you at a greater chance of getting your life ripped away from you.

I was about to turn away and head down the right path, when I heard a woman's high pitched screaming. It was coming from a bakery that was about two houses down from where I was standing. Suddenly a boy was flung from the door, landing on the rough dirt ground. The woman was at the door, screaming at him, about how he was a worthless pig, and how she wished she had been blessed with a daughter, because she would obviously be better than having a clumsy ape that burned bread, and broke precious bags of flour on the floor probably on purpose. She grabbed some books that had fallen on the porch, ran down the steps, and flung them at him while he was getting up. He bent over and picked the books up. When he brought his face up to look at her, she slapped him so hard that he staggered back a few steps, and dropped his books. "Get out of here you ungrateful little wretch!" she said walking back inside and slamming the door. He sighed, picked up his books again, and turned to face me.

That was all it took, one look, and I was taken back to that poor scene, five years ago.

It was right after my father had died. My mother was supposed to get a job after a month of mourning, but she didn't. She sat around and basically watched her children starve to death. So I went out with some of Prims threadbare baby clothes one day to try to trade them for some food, or something we could trade for food. I went door to door, but no one was willing to trade anything for them. I was tired and hungry, and just wandering, not wanting to go home empty handed, when it started to rain. The clothes that I had been holding slipped from my hands into a mud puddle. I was too afraid that I would keel over and die if I bent over. Besides, no one wanted them, neither did I.

I continued wandering until I realized that I was headed into the square. I was outside of a bakery and decided to look in the trash bin, to see if there was something to eat. Something only me and my family were desperate enough to eat, but it was bare. I could even make out my own reflection in the bottom of the bin. That's when a woman from inside started screaming at me, asking me if I wanted her to call the peacekeepers, and that she was so tired of the ratty kids from the seam pawing through her trash. I walked over to an old maple tree that was next to their chicken pen. That's when I heard her voice again, but this time she wasn't talking to me.

She was yelling at her son, Peeta. He staggered outside with two loaves of burnt bread cradled in his arms. He has ashy blond hair that staggered into his large blue eyes, which at the moment were full of concern. He was built, being a baker's son you have to haul 100 pound bags of flour and trays of baked goods, but it's not like a steroid type of built. It's more like nicely toned. He walked over to the chicken pen, glancing nervously in my direction, while tearing off chunks of the burned part of one of the loaves of bread. He looked behind him quickly to make sure that no one was watching, and then threw the loaves at me, than ran inside.

I stared at the ovals of heaven, looked quickly to the bakery, and shoved them under my shirt, while keeping my eyes still trained on the house. That day we dined on a loaf of hearty cinnamon raison nut bread for dinner, and for the first time in months we went to bed with our stomachs full.

As he walked towards me, down the road, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes and staring at me, it all came flashing back within seconds. When he got to me, he ducked his head and muttered, "Hello Katniss." He glanced up at me, and when he caught me staring, he ducked his head quickly and walked away, but not quick enough so that I couldn't see a little whisper of pink starting to stain his cheeks. I followed him, towards the school. He glanced back a few times, and every time he saw I was fallowing him, and every time he saw that I was smiling at him, his face turned a new shade of pink.

I smiled the entire way there, until I caught sight of the ratty old building. Its outside is covered in gray, with spots of red here and there from what used to be red paint that covered the entire school. It now holds a dark shade of gray, from worn in coal dust from the mines, and from the actual color of the bricks from the walls of the school. Its brick through and through, the walls are brick, the columns that hold up the school are brick, the steps are brick, so when you fall down the stairs you are guaranteed a trip to the local hospital. I know, I was tripped down them once because I stood up to a bully. I was in the hospital for a few weeks, but the person who tripped me was never punished. I never told anyone who did it.

There are always some of the more popular kids outside, chatting, screaming, chasing each other around like they were in elementary school. The ground around the school, basically dirt, with a few weeds and some dead grass scattered around. I walked inside, making sure to steer out of everyone's way and not holding glances with anyone other than Prim, like I usually do. I walked directly to my class, basically with my eyes on the ground.

My classroom is very bland. The same color pattern of gray is worked into everything, the desks, the walls, the chairs, the blackboard, even my teacher. He is a paunchy old middle aged man, with a very quick temper, with a scowl always on his face. I've noticed that he likes to pick on the more wealthy kids, him being from the Seam like me. I can tell because of his dark hair and gray eyes, that all of us from the Seam seem to have. He seems to like me. He never calls on me to do a problem in class; he doesn't really even look at me at all, unless I arrive late. He probably likes me so much because I was probably at the same place that he was when he was my age, and I'm one of the best students in his class.

The day goes by pretty much the same way, every single time I go to school. Most days, I don't see Peeta Melark, at all, except a few glimpses in the hallway, but today as I walked into my classroom, there he was, sitting right next to my desk.


	2. The project

I stood in the doorway, staring at him, until a merchant girl blew past me into the room, practically knocking me over. Her name is Madge. Her father is the mayor of District Twelve, so she thinks that she can do anything she wants and get away with it, and unfortunately she can. I would never say anything to her, because her father is one of my best customers. He is particularly fond of strawberries, and I happen to know where a patch of strawberry plants are outside of District Twelve.

Our whole district is enclosed by a twelve foot tall chain link fence that is topped by thick loops of barbed wire. It's supposed to be electrified 24/7 but we are lucky if we get electricity for a few hours in the evening every day, so it's usually safe to touch. You just have to listen for the quiet hum of electricity if the fence is on. Madge's father knows where I have to go to get the strawberries for him, but because of his fondness of them, he doesn't turn me in. So I wouldn't dare say anything but something nice to Madge, because her father's appetite for strawberries is the only thing that is keeping him from telling a peacekeeper to put a bullet through my head.

I looked up, regaining my feet in the process, and caught a smug look from Madge's face that was being flashed in my direction. I turned my eyes to the direction of Peeta, and saw him staring at me. I felt my face start to creep into a shade of pink. I hurried to my seat, watching my feet the whole way, to make sure not to trip on anything, and to avoid the gaze of Peeta. I slid into my seat, running my hand up and down the desks smooth surface, for a lack of a better thing to do with my hands. I glanced up, and caught the gaze of Peeta, yet again. When he realized that I had found his eyes, he jerked his head, hiding his deep blue pools filled with curiosity.

I sat in my desk awkwardly, listening to the chatter of the kids that had spilled in the classroom, when I decided something. I didn't really know anything about Peeta Melark. I wanted to figure him out, so I decided that I was going to become his friend. I know that it won't be easy, but I'm willing to try. "He must have some serious trust issues." I said in my head, or so I thought. Peeta looked up at me and said, "What did you say?" I looked away from his face, a shade of pink burning into my cheeks. "Um, nothing. I didn't say anything." I said with an unconvincing voice.

He knew what I had said and he knew that it had been me that had said it. What an embarrassing way to start a friendship, if he will even be my friend. My teacher, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, started class with the same boring ritual of listening to the national anthem of Panem and, than listening to a small lecture that is given every morning about the war between the districts and the Capitol, and how we are ungrateful little districts, and deserved to be punished with the Reapings

When he was finished, he told us that we were going to do a study on coal, not surprising, and that to make it exciting, he was going to be giving us partners. He droned on in a monotone voice about the specifics of the project, but I didn't listen. I figure that my partner was probably listening to the directions and he/she would fill me in on the specifics when we started. I had a seat right next to the one and only window in the classroom, which surprisingly was open today.

I slowly inched my face closer and closer to the small gust of wind that was blowing in. it felt good to feel the wind coat my face with coolness and plucking stray hairs from y braid, causing them to tease my skin with a very light, gentle touch. I had just started to smell the dampness of the rain from last night when all of my weight shifted, and my body was slammed to the floor. I hadn't realized I was leaning forward so much. I pulled myself up into my chair, my face turning a now familiar shade of pinkish red.

"Would you care to join us Miss Everdeen?" Mr. Abernathy said, giving me a curious glance. "We were just about to choose your project partner." I nodded, turning my full attention to him and his hat full of slips of paper with students' names written on them. I ignored the wind that was blowing on my neck, teasing me. He pulled out the slip of paper, and I sucked in a breath, hoping, no praying that my partner wasn't Madge. He unfolded it quickly and read the name, "Peeta Melark."


	3. Background

I sat in my desk, shifting uneasily, while Mr. Abernathy continued with his instructions. I started spacing out, while his words droned on, which is one of the things that I am best at doing. I pulled out a piece of paper and started drawing absentmindedly while pretending to be listening. He was about to dismiss us to our work, when he stopped as if, he had suddenly remembered something. I broke my eyes from my drawing to stare at him in confusion. "Now we will be working on this project for at the very least a month. I want you to know as much as you possibly can about your subject. Now in before the completion of this project, one of you may not have a partner, so I want everyone to do the most they can, so they do not make a fool of themselves. Now get to work."

My stomach started to churn uneasily, while the meaning of his words sunk in. In three weeks, today would be the Reapings. I looked down at my drawing and noticed, for the first time what I had sketched out, The Justice building in its entire splendor. The large gray, cement building with the flag of Panem dangling over the edge of the roof, just barely sweeping into the bold words that were carved into the cement, Justice Hall. There were lights placed in the corner of the building, angled towards the stage, so that everyone who was watching would not miss a thing, because it wasn't bright enough. There is a large screen to the right of the flag, which is suspended from thick cables that are attached to the roof. And of course in the direct center of the stage is a long, slender microphone, and to its sides are the glass bowls resting on podiums. I can almost see the small bits of paper inside of them, and all that they imply, which is certain death, to at least one person, man, women, or child.

The rules are quite simple. If you have a child, the name of the head of your household is added into the glass bowl. With each addition to the family, the times the name is added, doubles. Whether it's by adoption, or by birth, or a relative it doesn't matter. At noon on the 7th of April, everyone is gathered in front of the Justice Building, no matter what age. A bright and bubbly capitol woman named Effie Trinket will draw the name.

The whole family is brought on stage, and President snow picks a slip from the other bowl, which will determine who in the family will die, and how. One thing however does not change. The Head of the household has to kill the person chosen, whether it's the youngest child, the mother, or even in some cases him/herself.

Now anyone can volunteer to take the place of the person chosen, as long as they are not family, but unfortunately this is a rarity in District 12, and a child is killed almost every year. Now in 1 however, it is considered an honor to be chosen to be killed. They must be pretty crazy to think that it is ok to be killed for the enjoyment of the Capitol and the punishment of the Districts.

In exactly three weeks it will be the 7th of April, and someone will get killed, most likely someone I know. I looked around my classroom, my eyes lingering on each and every face, wondering which one it will be. I turned from their faces my eyes catching hold of the garbage can. I stood up, walked over it, crumpled my drawing and threw it in the bin, along with my thoughts of Panem and the Reapings. I turned around and went to face Peeta; with I'm sure a determined look in my eye.

I want to figure him out, I thought, and this is the perfect time to do so.


	4. Peeta a poem

**A poem to enjoy while you wait for the next chapter. It's gonna be a long one! :D**

Peeta:

You started out as a baker's boy, hauling bags of flour.

Than you saw her one day outside your shop, at her mother's words she cowered.

Her face sunk in, her stomach curved in, her arms shriveled up and tiny.

You took pity on her, the bread you burned, and threw the loaves at her in good timing.

After that day, you saw the girl at school, watched her grow up in front of your eyes.

Then one day you realized you loved her, but you knew that it had to be disguised.

Every day, seeing her, the words passed through her head, I love you.

You just about died when she volunteered, but by some chance next, they called you.

So this is how it is going to end.

The girl I love, with me, is going to fight to the death.

You thought those words right before you were given your first interview,

And those words sparked an idea that grew, and grew.

You confessed your love in front of everyone, which is something long overdue,

And you would see where this would take both her and you.

But she thinks that your love is just a clever little lie,

Made up only for the Capitol's eye.

But in the cave, sitting next to you, she finally realizes the truth.

The love that you hold for her, in her eyes, for a second, is reflected back at you.

You fight through the Games with her at your side,

Until it is just you and her that has survived.

You are taken back home, where with some surprise,

She dismisses you entirely from her life.

It stings, and it hurts in your heart for a while,

And you hope that someday, she will accept you back with a smile.


	5. Learning

I sat down, drummed my fingers on my desk for a few seconds, and then turned to Peeta. "So, what's this project on?" I asked. He gave me a curious look. "Did you pay, any, attention to Mr. Abernathy at all?" He asked. "Nope." I said with a half-smile. Why was it suddenly so easy to talk to him, I wondered. I pulled out my text book and notebook, flipped to a random page, and looked at Peeta again. "So seriously, what is this about?" "We are supposed to research three different ways about how to mine coal, and pick one of them to do a report on." He said looking back down at his books. "okay." I said, flipping through my book, looking for something to miraculously catch my eye, so that I could start working. After three tries, I gave up, flipped my book shut, and turned to Peeta, who was busy copying a page. "Well, I have absolutely no idea, what the hell I'm doing." I said with a sigh. "Neither do I. I'm just copying random stuff so I don't get in trouble." He said looking up at me with a smirk. "Pretty sneaky." I smiled while Peeta spoke. "You know I don't think that we have ever really been introduced, even though we know each other." He extended his arm. "Peeta Melark." He said grasping my slender hand in his large rough fingers, entrapping my own. "Katniss Everdeen." I said, my eyes catching hold of the red streak that was still prominent on his face. I slid my hand out of his, reached up and touched it lightly, but he winced, so I pulled back. "I'm sorry." I whispered. He looked into my eyes, and saw that I wasn't just sorry about him hurting, but that I was also sorry that he, had a mother like that, that would do that to him so blatantly, and not care who saw. "It's fine." He said breaking the hold he had, had on my eyes.

The rest of the day came by quickly, too quickly. Peeta would start talking to me, and then he would shut down, pretend I wasn't even there for no reason, that I know of. By the end of the day though, I did find out more about him. He has two older brothers name John and Luke. His father actually knew my mother, back before she even met my father. "My father said that, if your dad hadn't come along, he would've gotten her. Guess that would've made us siblings huh." He said. For some reason the thought of having Peeta as a brother is repulsive. Then the bell rang, and I didn't have a chance to talk to Peeta anymore. I stood up, but to quickly and my chair slipped from underneath me, and slammed into the floor drawing unwanted attention. My face turned a now familiar shade of red and I ran from the classroom as fast as I could.

The breeze outside felt nice on my skin, light and free, with just enough chilliness to make me shiver. I longed for the woods. The smell of pine needles, wet ground, fresh air, and animals, mixed into together into some kind of intoxicating perfume that was made for me, and kept drawing me back to it. I winded my way through the streets, actually dirt paths, until I stopped in front of my house. I opened the door wide enough for me to, place my books inside, and grab my bag that I use when I'm out in the woods, made of worn leather. Prim was inside and just barely managed to give me a smile, before I had closed the door and was off again.

I walked normally towards the fence that encloses all of District 12, so that if a peacekeeper should see me, he or she would not be suspicious of my motives of being out on the street. I stood next to the fence, casually looking around to see if anyone of importance is around, while listening to the fence for the tel- tale hum that means the wire is live. No one was around, and the wire was silent, so I slipped through the fence, and ran towards the place, that sometimes, can be my only home.

**I decided to break it off into two chapters so its not incredibly large! :) hope you enjoyed it!**


	6. Gale

I turned around when the sound of footsteps started hitting my ears. I didn't panic though. I moved silently into a nearby bush, close to where the mockingjay had fluttered into. The footsteps stopped right in front of where I was crouching. I froze, not even daring to breath. I imagined a peacekeeper, fallowing me, hunting me like I am some animal roaming in the woods waiting to get killed. I moved my eyes downward, catching hold of an army of ants marching over my hand, back to their little home, oblivious to the fact that I could be dead soon.

I could make out a bit of color of his or her clothing through a small gap in the bush. It was the color of mud, swirling down the person's leg, to form a pair of long pants, and curved and curved along the person's foot, to form a shoe. This was not a peacekeeper. Peacekeepers wear long white uniforms, like they are trying to mimic snow, which can sometimes be the only beautiful thing around here. They are trying to take everything beautiful and replace it with something dark and horrible.

The person started saying something quietly, whispering a word that ringed in my ears, and yet confused me. "Katniss." The person said. I could tell now that it was a male, and I knew exactly who it was. I popped up and flung myself through the bushes. It was Gale, he had fallowed me through the fence and winded through the woods behind me, silently. I smacked his arm, "Damn you Gale! You scared me half to death!" I said while he stood there smirking at me. "Who did you think I was, a Peacekeeper?" He said mockingly. "Yes I did actually." I replied, turning around and shoving myself back through the bushes tripping onto the pile of ants. They seemed to be quite angry at me, but I don't care. I tripped my way towards the lake, with Gale fallowing close behind me. He laughed at my clumsiness, and I turned around and stuck my tongue out at him. His presence always seems to bring out the child in me.

"So why are you out here anyway?" I said sitting down next to the water, dipping my fingers through its crystal like surface. Usually Gale only comes out with me on Sundays. He sighed, looked at his hands, and then glanced up at me. "Well, the reaping's coming up soon, and I just want to spend as much time as possible with you. You never know who will be picked to..."

"Gale, you CANT think like that! I won't let you! There are thousands of slips in that bowl with thousands of names! The chance that my family's name or yours will be chosen is like what, 10 out of 400,000. We will be fine." I said, glaring intently into Gale's eyes. We sat there by the stream, watching the fish swim around, flashing their scales at us. By the end of the day, Gale had 3 squirrels that he had trapped, and a few fish that we had hooked. We traded the fish for some bread and twine my mother has been asking for.

Gale and I walked down the road, towards our family, our lives. It was quiet, so quiet. We were nearing our houses. I could make out Prim from through the window in our house. I stopped. "Gale, promise me something." I whispered, pulling his body to face me. A look of confusion masked his face. "What?" He asked, stepping closer, leaning towards me a bit. "If my name is called, you wont do anything drastic. Don't be a hero." I said looking down at his toes as they shuffled closer. His large arms entrapped me in a hug, his lips leaned down to my ear. "I cant promise that." he said. Then he was gone, slipping away to his house down the road, and the only thought that formed in my mind was, "Gale would die for me.. Why?"


	7. The Reapings

The days went by too quickly, and they all made me feel like I was living a broken record. Everything was the same. Prim woke me up when I slept in, Peeta talked on and off to me, and Gale wouldn't promise me what I needed him to promise to me. Before anyone knew it, it was Reaping Day. I woke up for once on my own, without Prim's assistance. The sheets were tangled at my feet, and instead of being cold, I was roasting. It was the dream that I had, had.

Our name had been drawn, and Prim was chosen. I had been running towards her, screaming out her name. I had to get her off of that stage, I had to volunteer. But she was too far away. I didn't reach her in time.

I sighed in relief, knowing that it was just a dream, that Prim would be there at breakfast waiting for me. I stretched lazily, enjoying the feeling of my muscles expanding and then retracting. I looked outside the window that is right next to my bed. It looked like it was about noon. My legs forced myself upright, moving me from my bed, to my dresser. My arms grabbed the rough material of the nicest dress I own and shoved it over my body. My fingers moved through my brown hair, untangling the strands and then working them into a complex braid that wrapped all the way around my head into a tight woven bin. It felt good to work with my hair. Almost therapeutic, for what he'll would soon come.

Breakfast was as small as ever, only a small mound of cheese that we could spare, and a sip of milk from Prim's goat. Once all the food was eaten, we sat at the small table, waiting for the whistle to blow, calling us to the Square. When it screeched its high pitched sound, I looked at Prim, and she at me. A look of terror was plain in her eyes. "It will be fine Prim. We won't be called." I assured her.

We winded our way down the die roads to the Justice Building, which was looking as gray as ever. Everyone was ushered inside, the families with the most slips in the front. We have always been about 7 rows from the front. The odds are most definitely not in much of our favor, but I would never admit it to Prim.

Everyone took in a collective breath when Effie Trinket, President Snow, the Mayor, And the glass bowls took their places on stage.

"Hello everyone! Welcome to the 74th Reaping's! I know that all of you citizens in the Capitol are excited to see which family is chosen this year, but first we have a message from the Capitol."

A large screen that had been suspended from thick candle attached to the roof, over Effie Trinkets head, came to life. I imagined the cables snapping, dropping the enormous screen to her puffy pink wig, exposing all of her vital organs to all of the districts and Panem. A smile whispered on my lips, but a shot of a child, which looked very much like Prim being led to be shot by its own father, wiped away any ounce of humor that I had in my body.

The video faded out and was replaced by the seal of Panem, big bright silver, and never moving, holding firm, when all anyone wanted was for it to be torn down and replaced with a symbol of the districts. Next was the moment that everyone was dreading. Effie stepped up to the podium, opened her mouth, and sang out words that no one wanted to hear. "Happy Reaping Day! It's a lovely morning! Let the festivities begin, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

Peacekeepers brought out podium, on which large, glass bowls were placed. Everyone could see the thousands of slips, 42 of which had my mother's name written in elegant script. President Snow moved slowly from his chair, walking towards the podium to state the rules, as always. Effie moved to the left, resting her hand on the edge of the bowl. I sucked in all of my breath; she is so close to my mother's name. She could easily reach in, pull it out, and force her to kill Prim, or me.

President Snow finished his ramblings, and sat back down in his chair with a heavy sigh. Its funny how someone so old and weak, can be so powerful. "Now the time has come to select the name of the chosen tributes, which will be representing their district, and paying for the rebellion that took so many innocent lives, that should never have been lost. Their sacrifice is for the fallen, young and old." Effie stated.

Her hand circled above the bowl, her red fingertips glistening in the sunlight. Her sharp fingernails dipped into the bowl, digging around, shoving slips aside with her sharp nails. It felt like she was digging around in my chest, not the bowl. Her fingers caught hold of a single slip. She drew it slowly out of the bowl; the tension in the room was tangible. She unfolded the tiny scrap, holding it out in front of her. She pursed her lips, reading the name in her head, I'm sure, before she opened her mouth and said the name. It didn't catch my ears at first. All I could hear was ringing. I looked at the girl to my left. "What did she say?" I asked. She swallowed, leaned over, gave me a hug, and whispered the name loud and clear. I stood frozen.

Melissa Everdeen.

They had called my mother. I was going to die.

All I could think about was Prim. The look that crossed her face made me want to throw her out of the square and offer myself to be shot, so she wouldn't have to think about her death for even a second. But I couldn't do that. I was family, her sister. I would have to watch as one of us died. My mother wrapped both of her skinny arms around us, as we were shuffled on stage. They were little protection from the Peacekeepers, who untangled us and made us form a straight line. I looked out at all of the people from our district. People I have loved hated, misunderstood, or never even known. My eyes caught hold of Peeta standing by the stairs. His eyes were long, dark, and full of concern.

Effie went down the line with a microphone, and we all said our names. When she got to me, my eyes were still with Peeta. It felt right to stare into his eyes, to never look away. Her eyes fallowed my gaze. She gasped. "Tragic. Your love was doomed from the start." She said. I heard President Snow walk up to the bowl. His old voice boomed through the speakers overhead. "Now for the way the price must be paid." He was brief with his choice. His large calloused hand grasped the first slip that touched his rough skin. "The head of the household will take the youngest child and shoot him or her point blank range. No exceptions."

My heart dropped. Prim dead. I wouldn't be able to bear it. I reached out to Prim when she reached out to me. I held an iron grip on her. I would not let go.

Before I knew what was happening though, someone had covered my mouth and nose with a cloth. I was slipping away from her. I screamed and kicked, trying to get away from the large arms that were entrapping me, but I couldn't. It was Peeta who was holding me. His large hands flipped me around, and cradled me in his chest so I couldn't see Prim, or my mother anymore. I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face into him, letting the tears slip.

There was nothing that I could do. My sister was going to die. I didn't hear anyone breathe. I knew that she had been given the gun. I could picture my mother, the silent tears running down her cheeks. I could see Prim, the scared look while she was being chained into place. I buried my head even further into his chest. The next sound was a bullet being shot, and my sister taking her last breath before my mother shot her.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was quiet, so quiet that I could hear my tears run uncontrollably down my face and into Peeta's shirt. I heard them drag Prim off stage and into the back. I couldn't bring myself to look behind me, to look at my mother. Peeta was rubbing his hands up and down my spine. I felt myself slipping to the floor, my body giving out under me. Before I could fall Peeta picked me up and started carrying my away.

My head was hanging over his shoulder now, my legs and arms swinging like I was lifeless, as lifeless as Prim now was. Before I could stop them, my eyes opened and I was staring at the stage. My mother was slumped over on the ground her head in her hands crying, wishing that her baby was still here, the baby that she killed. My eyes wandered again of their own accord to where Prim was shot.

Her blood was slipping and sliding its way down the wall she was placed in front of, dripping into a puddle that was making its way towards my mother. Effie stepped up to the microphone once more to dismiss everyone but I didn't hear her, my eyes were still trained on the spot on the floor, the last bit of Prim that I would ever see. Peeta turned a corner and I couldn't see it anymore. She was gone. My Prim.

My eyes dropped to the ground, counting the paved stones, memorizing the way Peeta walked, imagining patterns in the stone that isn't there, doing anything with my mind to forget about what had just happened to my baby sister.

I didn't realize where we were until Peeta opened the door to his bakery. The overwhelming smell of bread hit me, rendering me sense of smell unconscious. He walked up a set of stairs and turned into the first room he came to that was on his right.

The room was neat, impossibly clean. The bed made to perfection, the desk was sorted and organized. He set me down one the bed and I slumped over into the pillow. He just stared at me with a wondering look on his face that seemed to ask, "What now?" My face buried into the pillow, and I recognized the scent that was attached to it, it was Peeta.

The tears started to slip yet again from my tear ducts and he shifted closer to me, enveloping his arms around me in a hug. He held me, while I sobbed for my sister, for my father, for the life that we should have where we didn't have to fear that of death constantly. I stayed there in Peeta's arms, crying until I somehow slipped asleep.


	9. The End:)

The days and weeks dragged on and on without any purpose. My mother committed suicide a few short days after she had killed Prim. I guess living with the fact that she had killed her baby girl was more then she could bear. I was left alone, abandoned, with only myself to care for. It was quite a change. After an entire life of doing everything in your power to keep others alive, I was suddenly forced to take care of myself, which was something that I didn't know how to do. I would wake up, go to school, come home, go to sleep and then start it all over again. Occasionally I would go to the Hob, purchase things that I would need to survive.

It seemed like everything I ever did was connected with Prim. Every day, at random moments her face would pop up in my head. Her little face would smile at me, laugh. On other days when I was passing through the square, an image of her blood on the floor would replace her perfect, happy little face. I avoided ta walk by the building as much as possible, only walking by if it was absolutely necessary.

Right when my mother left me, I grew close to drugs, and my trusty old knife. They kept me from thinking about my mother and Prim. It also showed me how truly alone I was.

Peeta and I never grew together. I fell asleep in his arms the day of the Reaping's, and when I woke up I left and I would never go back. Peeta found himself a lovely girl named Clove. They got married the day she turned 20. They grew old together, had 4 children, two boys and two girls.

I died early, and was reunited with my mother, father, and Primrose. We all never left District 12. Even in death we still live here, waiting watching, silently helping the others when things get really bad. I watched over Peeta until his death of 87. I'm proud of him for lasting so long in a place when having a full life is a luxury not given to many, and earned by hard work, dedication, and keeping your damn mouth shut when it needs to be, and knowing when to speak.

Life is no longer hard to bear. Everything actually feels right now, with all of us together again. No regrets.

**THANK YOU ALL FOR READING THIS STORY :) IT HAS BEEN A CHANGE TO WRITE SOMETHING AND TO BE ENCOURAGED TO WRITE MORE AND MORE :) UNTIL NEXT TIME! May the odds be ever in your favor! And Happy Hunger Games:)**


End file.
